DANCIN' ► DUSTIN HENDERSON [1]

1/3

psa: i don't approve of cisgender actors playing transgender people. im simply using elle fanning's role in 3 generations as a faceclaim for this part of the book bc realistically living in the upside down would ruin a girl's hair and plus jasper with short hair? yes. but no, i don't condone elle playing a ftm transgender person. just know that.

THE DOOR OF THE HENDERSON HOUSE creaked open slowly, allowing just enough room for Dustin to squeeze inside. His wide, cautious blue eyes skimmed the perimeter as he tentatively shut the door behind him. Blood roared in his ears, hoping his mom had already passed out on the couch after consuming half of their candy bowl meant for trick or treaters.

His sweaty palms tightened around the contraption designed for his costume, knowing the strange creature sitting inside its walls. Hastily, his feet carried him through the living room towards his bedroom.

"Dusty!" His mom called hurriedly, rushing up to meet him with an enthusiastic smile on her face. Reluctantly, Dustin stopped in his tracks and deliberately turned to face his mom.

The older woman was still wearing her black cat costume, Mews running between her legs and letting out rumbling purrs as she met eyes with her son. "Dusty, how was it?"

"How...How was what?" Dustin questioned in a higher, slightly panicky voice. He felt the tips of his ears and his cheekbones tinge with a burning redness.

"The greatest night of the year of course," his mom elaborated, raising an eyebrow at him with a knowing smirk.

"Oh! Oh, yeah, it was, it was...fine," Dustin chuckled out nervously, his nails digging into his palms at the tension and awkwardness flowing in the conversation.

Mrs. Henderson shot her son a grimace, confused by the sudden anxiety in her son. "What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing," Dustin immediately replied with denial.

"Did something happen?" She further pressed, her voice unusually soft.

"What? No! No. What?" Dustin shook his head vigorously.

"Are you constipated again?" His mom asked, tilting her head to the side in a state of motherly concern.

"No, Mom!" Dustin shouted in embarrassment, feeling his face heat up in burning shame. He was grateful none of his friends were here to witness this incredibly strange and uncomfortable talk with his mother.

"Okay, you're acting weird," she hissed scornfully, her tone hardening with sincerity and irritation. It seemed like her son was holding something back from her.

"I'm not acting weird," Dustin declared, and to further disprove his lie, the box in his tight grip began to shake furiously.

His mom retreated from the seizing machine, letting out a shocked gasp. Mews, still cowering at Mrs. Henderson's ankle, let out a low hiss at the unusual device.

Dustin's eyes lifted up to meet his mom's worried gaze, nervous laughs falling from his lips. "Awesome, right? Yeah, I rigged the trap with, uh, a motor, to make it look like a caught a ghost. Just like the movie!"

The mother and son let out a chorus of fake, scared laughs, keeping both of their wary eyes glued to the trap. Dustin, not wasting another opportunity to escape, pushed himself down the hall and into his room. It wasn't until after he heard the lock click did he hold up the trap, eyeing it with a scolding look.